By Appointment Only (29 page)

They got her settled into bed and stuck a needle in her arm, and soon some kind of wonderful medicine soothed all her hurts and fears. She watched drowsily as the nurse bustled around the small space. The other bed was empty. Hopefully it would stay that way.

When the woman hooked up a monitor that beeped quietly, Hannah murmured to her, “I thought they might wait until tomorrow morning to do this.”

The nurse straightened her blanket. “We don’t like to waste time with the appendix. Too dangerous. You can relax now and let the medicine do its trick. An orderly will be in to get you shortly.”

Morgan pressed down on the accelerator and whipped past two cars. His speedometer crept toward eighty-five. He was scared and trying not to think about what might be happening in some strange hospital in Ocala. Thank God Elda had called him.

She had been suspicious when Hannah never mentioned Morgan during the course of their phone call. So Elda had called Morgan to make sure things weren’t more serious than Hannah was letting on.

It was a toss-up as to whether Elda or Morgan had been more shocked that Hannah hadn’t contacted her fiancé. He jumped in his car, still on the phone with Elda getting details, and flew toward Ocala. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a reason why Hannah wasn’t in the hospital in Orlando. It didn’t make sense.

But he didn’t really care. He had tried to call her as soon as he and Elda hung up, but Hannah had already turned off her phone. It made his heart ache to imagine her all alone, getting ready to go into surgery.

He eased his speed up to ninety and checked for cops in his rearview mirror. Surely if they stopped him, they’d cut him a break. But then again, with the way his life had been going lately, maybe not.

Once he made it to the hospital, he wasted precious time locating Hannah’s room. The privacy restrictions were tough, and apparently Hannah had not listed any next of kin on her form, not even her mother.

He begged, he pleaded, he gave every bit of Hannah’s personal information he could remember, and finally the woman at the desk relented, apparently realizing real panic when she saw it. She glanced at her computer screen. “Ms. Quarles is in room three-ohnine, but there’s a good chance they’ve already taken her into surgery, ” she warned. “If the appendix bursts, it can be serious, even fatal. I’m sure they didn’t waste any time.”

That was not helpful information for a man who had recently made the most colossal mistake of his life. The woman he loved more than life was in peril. He refused to wait for an elevator, choosing instead to run up the stairs. He skidded down the hall like a character in a movie and burst through the door of Hannah’s room.

Several people stood around the bed, lifting her onto a gurney. Hannah’s eyes were closed, her face pale, her gorgeous hair tucked into a thin, elastic-edged head cover. His heart stopped.

“Hannah.” He spoke her name urgently, loudly. Her eyelashes fluttered, opened slowly, and she turned her head in his direction. “Morgan?” She seemed confused. But even drugged and half-asleep she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“I’m here, baby.” He stood close to her side, trying to stay out of the way of business, but unwilling to be pushed aside completely. He took her hand, the one that wasn’t taped to an IV. "Listen, sweetheart. Everything’s okay. I swear. I don’t want you to worry about any of it. And here . . . I have something for you.”

He tried to slide the engagement ring on Hannah’s finger, and the nurse frowned. “She can’t wear that into surgery, sir.”

“But I—”

“It’s for her own safety.” The nurse’s steely eyed gaze was adamant.

He drew back his hand, still clutching the ring. “Hannah. Did you hear what I said?”

She had zoned out again, but she made a valiant effort to focus on his face. She blinked, her lashes at half-mast. “I didn’t call you,” she said. “Why are you here?” There was no malice in her words, only tired curiosity.

And in that moment, Morgan felt like the lowest form of life on the planet. He had to clear the lump in his throat before he could answer. “I’m the man who loves you,” he said, his voice thick. “I’ll always be here.”

He squeezed her hand, and he thought she squeezed back, but he couldn’t be sure. The gaggle of medical professionals finished their preparations, and the nurse looked at him with a modicum of sympathy. “I’m sorry, sir. We have to get her into surgery. You’re welcome to wait in here. There’s a snack machine down the hall. The doctor will come speak with you after it’s over and she’s in recovery.”

And then they took her away from him and left him to ponder his failings in an empty room that smelled of alcohol and fear and uncertainty.

Time crawled in slow motion, but in reality it was only a little over two hours when a female doctor clad in green scrubs appeared in the doorway. She glanced at the chart in her hand. "Are you with Ms. Quarles?”

He nodded, his heart in his throat. “I’m her fiancé. Is she okay?”

The woman nodded. “She’s in recovery . . . and she did very well. It was a close call, though. That appendix may have been bothering her for some time. It was about ready to blow. So I’m glad she came in when she did.”

Morgan nodded, trying not to think about the what-might-have-beens.

The doctor looked at her watch. “Since it’s almost dinnertime, I’d like to keep her overnight. And then, assuming everything is okay, we’ll release her first thing in the morning. If you have any questions, you can check with the nursing station. I’ll be back to check on our patient before I leave the hospital this evening.”

“Thank you.”

The door closed, and Morgan slumped in his chair, his face in his hands. He was numb except for an overwhelming sensation of gratitude. Hannah was going to be okay. That was all that mattered.

Thirty minutes later they wheeled the woman he loved into the room. Her eyes were closed and she was still hooked up to the IV. Once the nurses and orderlies had everything settled to their satisfaction, they left.

Morgan pulled his chair beside the bed and took Hannah’s left hand. The one that was unfettered by medical equipment or even the sign of a man’s commitment. He winced. Should he slide the ring back on before she woke up? Maybe if he was lucky, the anesthesia would have given her temporary amnesia. Maybe he could pretend that the scene in her kitchen last night never happened.

Hannah moved restlessly in the bed and groaned softly. Her face was pale. She looked infinitely small and helpless in that sterile bed. He squeezed her hand. “Easy, baby. Are you awake?”

Her tongue came out to wet her lips, and she grimaced. Gradually, she opened her eyes. “Thirsty.”

Hannah’s throat was raw, and below her waist, she hurt in several different places. She reached a hand between the blankets and winced when the needle in her hand jabbed uncomfortably.

Morgan lifted her arm into a more comfortable position. “Don’t mess with anything. Here. I’ve got you some Sprite over crushed ice.”

He slid an arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her so she could capture the straw in her mouth. The cold liquid tasted like nectar. She drank greedily and finally sank back into the bed, exhausted. “What time is it?” Her head was muzzy, full of random images.

“Seven o’clock.”

“At night?”

“Yeah.”

She turned her face toward the window, but she couldn’t see out.

Morgan was already on his feet. “You want me to open these?” He pulled back the ugly drapes and raised the miniblinds.

Hannah sighed. It was still daylight. Somehow that made her feel better, but she wasn’t sure why.

After that, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room. She pretended to doze. She was painfully aware of Morgan’s big, solid presence at her side. His tenderness made her teary, but she couldn’t read too much into it. Nothing had changed.

She had a vague memory of hearing his voice before she went into surgery, but that might have been wishful thinking. At the moment she couldn’t think of a thing to say to him, so she continued to play possum.

Nothing was ever quiet for long in a hospital room. First a nurse came in to check her vitals for the umpteenth time. Then an aide came in with a supper tray, and Hannah was forced to acknowledge the fact that she was awake . . . and wonder of wonders, even hungry. Ravenous, in fact.

The woman raised the head of the bed, and when she left, Morgan helped Hannah uncover everything on the platter. She ate the chicken and peas and potatoes and roll without complaint. Even the orange Jell-O tasted wonderful. Afterwards, she wiped her hands on the napkin and sipped more of her Sprite. Neither she nor Morgan spoke more than a few words in the process.

It was surprisingly embarrassing to have her ex-fiancé escort her to the bathroom. He’d seen her naked, for Pete’s sake. But even so, her face flamed as he bent to wrap the stupid gown around her hips and help her push the monitor at the same time.

When that awkward interlude was over, she felt like sleeping again, but Morgan took her free hand, his eyes dark with emotion. His clothes were rumpled, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept at all the night before. Maybe he hadn’t. His grip was tight. “We have to talk, sweetheart.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Geez, Webber. Kick a girl while she’s down, why don’t you?” She wasn’t sure she was up for a big confrontation.

He chuckled and squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I freaked out last night. And I hurt you. Will you forgive me?”

She scowled. “That depends. Are we still engaged? And I mean the real thing. Not some pity arrangement because you thought I was dying.”

His face sobered. “God, don’t joke about it.” In his voice and on his face she registered how worried and upset he had been. For a moment she imagined how she would have felt if the situations were reversed. Pretty scary.

She would have reassured him, but he was busy slipping a familiar piece of jewelry onto her ring finger. She couldn’t help it. She started to cry. She waved a hand in the air. “It’s just the drugs,” she sniffed. “Don’t mind me.”

He bent down and kissed her, despite her wet face and the fact that she hadn’t brushed her teeth in forever. “I love you, Hannah, ” he whispered. He was warm and dear, and the scent of his aftershave was familiar and comforting. He moved from her lips to her cheek to the side of her neck just beneath her ear. The wretch knew she was sensitive there. And even in her condition, her heart began to beat a bit faster.

She pulled back, smiling through her tears. “Be careful, stud. They’re monitoring my blood pressure.”

He grinned and smoothed the hair from her face. “Duly noted.” His smile faded, and he grimaced. “Listen, my sweet. I promise you everything is okay. I panicked. I was afraid you’d hear about my parents and dump me.”

“So you decided to beat me to the punch,” she said wryly, not yet completely able to remember that dreadful moment with humor. Even now, the thought of it made her stomach clench. And the pain she experienced wasn’t entirely from her incisions, though they were definitely contributing to the ache she felt from head to toe.

He released her fingers and scrubbed his hands over his face. “What my parents are doing hurts. I can’t deny it, but it has no bearing at all on you and me.”

“You’re positive?” She wanted to make sure he believed in the two of them. She needed him to believe.

He met her gaze steadily. “Without a doubt.”

It was almost like a wedding vow.

He handed her another fistful of tissues as the tears started up again. She blubbered and blew her nose and felt happier than any woman should who had just had part of her insides removed.

And all the while, he stroked her arm, as if he couldn’t bear to break the physical connection. Finally, he lifted his shoulders in a sigh. “I called my parents and told them you were here.”

Hannah froze. “Um, what did they say?”

“Nothing about the divorce, so don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll come to see you and we’ll all be very civilized and avoid the awkward topic.”

Hannah was saved from answering when the door opened and Elda came in followed by her latest smitten swain who just happened to be fifteen years her junior and was still allowed to drive.

Elda carried a huge bouquet of flowers. She set it on the bedside table and hugged Hannah carefully. “Lord, girl, you scared us. This is from all of your admirers at Fluffy Palms. You’ll be getting something from the other two centers as well, but I wanted to bring ours in person.”

Hannah slipped the card from the small envelope and read it.
For Hannah, the light of our lives. Get well soon. Love, the gang at Fluffy Palms
.

She got all weepy again, and Morgan chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse my lovely fiancée. The drugs are making her loopy.”

The older couple stayed for only twenty minutes or so. Elda rolled her eyes and whispered in Hannah’s ear, pointing surreptitiously at her companion. “He can’t drive after dark because of his cataracts, but I pretend I don’t know. It hurts his pride.”

When they were gone, Hannah looked at Morgan. “You need to go down to the cafeteria before it closes and get something to eat.”

He started to protest, and she shushed him. “Don’t be stubborn. I’m sleepy. I’ll close my eyes while you’re gone. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced, but he went.

Moments later, Hannah sighed inwardly as she heard the quiet sound of the door swinging inward. This was like Grand Central Station. But maybe the nurse was going to take out the IV.

She lifted her eyelashes, though it took an effort, and her dinner congealed in her stomach. Vivian hovered in the doorway, her eyes big and her hair in its usual disarray. Behind her stood Raymond. He urged Vivian into the room and shut the door.

Vivian tiptoed closer. “You okay, honey?”